


My Salvation

by inkbadger



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Adiro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And single-handedly row this boat, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Engagement, Canon Sexuality, Engagement, Grieving Shiro?, I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE SHIRO IS GAY CAN YOU TELL, I am living, I will go down with this ship I STG, Kind of a fix-it fic?, Let my gays be happy pls, M/M, Most canon compliant, Pre-Kerberos to Post Canon, SDCC spoilers, Shadam, Shiram, Shiro is gay, Space Dad in love, VLD spoilers, Violence, adashi, pining shiro, references to chronic illness, whatever their ship name is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:44:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbadger/pseuds/inkbadger
Summary: "I never meant to fall for you but I,Was buried underneathAnd all that I could see was white.My salvation, my, my.My salvation, my, my."or,The five times they were apart, and the one in which they weren't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I WILL SINGLE-HANDEDLY SUPPLY THE CONTENT FOR THIS SHIP IF I HAVE TO BUT HOLY CRAP CAN I JUST SAY HOW DAMN STOKED I AM THAT SHIRO IS GAY. 
> 
> Inspired by Gabrielle Aplin's "Salvation", a beautiful song and the driving force of my aggressive love for this ship.

_“Just don’t expect me to be here when you get back.”_

Shiro toys with the slim band around his finger, unable to find it in himself to pull it off like he probably should have days, weeks, _months_ ago.

Kerberos was everything.

Adam was everything.

He’d hovered over the buttons a thousand times, unable to force himself to call the man with the ashen blond hair and the dark eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses who was living his life light years away. Moving on from his decision. Moving forward.

Like he should be.

He could remember the day that Adam had given him the ring- a complete and utter surprise on both their parts, considering how spur of the moment it had been. But they had known, instinctively, how right the decision was for the both of them.

They already lived together, a mis-matched couple of neat rows of uniforms pressed and hung in the closet (Adam), the careless yet somehow organized papers strewn about the kitchen table (Takashi) and the collective mound of odds and ends that neither of them could recall belonged to whom.

It was a promise, they’d said.

A beginning.

The constant ache left in his chest never seemed to abate, despite the growing distance between the Kerberos crew and their home planet of Earth.

_“Just don’t expect me to be here when you get back.”_

Shiro respected Adam’s decision.

It didn’t mean that it hurt any less when Matt and Sam called home, Matt teasing Katie and Sam and Colleen watching on indulgently, their family ties strong despite the distance apart. Shiro did his best to avoid them whenever they made the calls- he hated to impose, no matter the assurances from all four that he was doing no such thing.

He did manage to call Keith, however. Before their ship passed out of the range for communications, Shiro always made time to at least send a quick ping off from the ship’s systems. A sign that he was still thinking about him.

The scruffy boy had promise, was top of his classes and, if he could manage his temper, on the right track to becoming a space explorer himself. Shiro was damn proud of him- he’d come a long way from the foster kid with a chip in his shoulder and a vendetta against the world.

And that wasn’t to say he didn’t still have his moments. They were just becoming less frequent before he had left.

“Takashi?”

“Hey Matt. What’s up?”

He blinked, straightening in his seat, hand pausing and moving away from the simple metal band that served as nothing more than a memory, now.

“Dad says we’ve got an asteroid belt coming up. Time for some of that ace piloting they paid you for.”

His features are warm, as they always are, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he props a hand on his hip, the artificial gravity serving to hold him to the floor for now. Depending on the circumstances, it wasn’t uncommon for the crew of three to simply go without the artificial pull of gravity to the floor, but considering the sector of space they were currently navigating through, Sam had deigned it a good idea.

Shiro’s lips quirked up as he shrugged, standing and rolling his shoulders.

“Alright then, co-pilot, let’s get to work.”

_“Just don’t expect me to be here when you get back.”_

The ache in his chest hurt, but Shiro had work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

_“No, please!”_

Shiro felt like a spectator in his own body as the witch turned her attention to the band on his finger, eyes gleaming as she reached for it.

In the weeks before now, it was the only connection that had kept him sane-Matt and Sam had been separated from him early into their captivity, the solitary confinement wearing on Shiro’s mental health constantly.

It didn’t stop him from fervently praying to whatever deity he could think of that if he could just hold on, just keep holding out for a while longer, he could get out of this wretched place and find a way back to Earth. Back to the safety and warmth of arms that were always gentle and pulled him into a solid chest that held a heartbeat that matched his own in the quiet hours of the night, the scent of sandalwood and lavender a welcome addition as he tucked his face in the crook of a slender neck.

“This trinket.” She rasped, trailing claws across the back of his hand to tap at it. “It is significant to you. A token of affection by your species.”

He struggled against the restraints binding him to the metal table as her other hand dug firmly into an older wound, a whine of pain struggling through his throat as air suddenly became a luxury. Caught between panic at the imminent threat of death and the thought that everything connecting him to an impossible future on the other side of the universe, he barely even notice the other signs of his chest tightening, an ache flaring into a flame the longer he spiralled out of control.

A tsk from the witch, and she drove her mental brand into his mind, easily tearing through memories and flashes of himself that she had already done twice before, hunting for the answers she sought even as Shiro struggled to cling to consciousness.

“A broken bond.” She finally scoffed, pulling away from him and allowing him a moment of recovery. Though, had he been more coherent, he would have dwelled on the thought that their versions of recovery were very different things.

The witch merely wished to sate her innate curiosity, regardless of whether he would survive or not.

Later, Shiro would vomit at the thought of what might have happened to Matt and Sam.

“You may keep it for now. It serves little in my plans.” She continued, flicking blood from her fingers and moving out of view.

His chest is lit from his heart outward, his mind scattered like clouds as pain consumes him, eyelids fluttering shut as a single name escapes his lips.

_Adam._

* * *

 

 

Some days, Shiro can’t help but wonder if this fate is for giving up one of the only things that meant something to him.

He’d only wanted to see the expanses of space before he died. Now, if that had meant giving up a life on Earth- a happy, peaceful life, he and Adam had both known that it would never have happened. Not since Adam had learned of his condition. Before then?

Before then?

The memories are tattered at the seams, worn from the number of times the witch pried open his thoughts to her like a particularly interesting dissection.

He wants to go home.

He wants Adam.

She knows his thoughts, knows his desires, his dreams.

She knows he has an expiration date.

Likely, given her position, she knows when that date is.

Other days, he wants Keith. Wants that spunky little firecracker to show up and smack some sense into him for thinking that he was invincible when the proof- bleeding on an examination table millions of light years away from Earth, heartbroken and alone- was standing in front of him.

If he makes it back to the cell that he learns is designated for him, he curls into the furthest corner, shaking fingers rubbing along that innocent metal band that now serves as his only connection to something human. Something that connects him to home, however far away that it may be.

Some days, he is unable to do even that, muscles trembling from whatever the witch had injected him with, vision blurring from the blood loss from whatever partial investigation into his skin she had decided upon that day.

Eventually, the only thing he knew was that cell, the falsehood that he convinced himself was another human against his back when he knew it was the cold metal of the unforgiving ship he was imprisoned on. He wondered if there was a purpose to this life, or if he was simply a plaything to an alien species before they would kill him and be done with it.

The answer, he would come to know in time, was the latter.

 

* * *

 

 

The Arena wears on Shiro’s soul.

He’s long since lost track of how many matches he’s been forced into, how many he’s been forced to kill in order to survive and see another day. Regardless, he knows that should he fail even once, Haggar would hardly see it as a great loss. Yes, she had broken him, replaced flesh and bone with metal and gears in order to improve him, but it was but a speck in her grand scheme of things.

Before his thoughts grew distant, Shiro thought of how utterly, hilariously tragic it was that at twenty-three, _or was it twenty-four now?-_ he was experiencing an existential crisis somewhere in the furthest reaches of deep space, a prisoner of an alien race who just so happened to find it fun to enslave and destroy anything they came into contact with.

Tears came to him rarely, now. Injuries were met with a stiff indifference, mind calculating the manner in which to avoid future encounters.

Apparently, that trait was what made him _special_.

He was forgetting things- small, seemingly insignificant things that had once come so easily to him. The smell of the shampoo he used to use, the sound of Keith’s voice, or Adam’s, or the name of his childhood dog or even the face of his grandfather. Occasionally, when his mind was clear and he was given reprieve for several matches to heal, they would seep back into his mind with crystal clear clarity.

Among other things, he remembered the familiar weight of the band around his finger.

It was gone now- Shiro couldn’t remember when exactly it had disappeared, but nonetheless, it left a noticeable impression.

His chest burned more frequently these days. If the witch had ever noticed his discomfort, she certainly had never expressed interest in what it meant, nor any indication that it would change anything.

Some days, Shiro even forgot why his chest burned.

His expiration date, he knew, would eventually come to pass. It was an inevitability. Even more now that he was fighting as the witch’s “Champion” in the Arena.

He sighs, closing his eyes and hoping the ache behind his eyes and the pain in his shoulder and the burning in his chest before his next match. He’s already given up on trying to waste his energy on escaping for now- the last attempt had earned him several broken bones and several more days under the witch’s care. _Haggar_ , the others called her in disgusted whispers.

Shiro doesn’t care what her name is.

Buried under everything is a small, pitiful hope that if he makes it long enough, far enough, he can make it home. Back to Keith, back to his uncomfortable bed with the springs that creak on the left corner and a man with blond hair and thick glasses. Back to his god-awful paperwork from teaching, and that one specific brand of tea he could only find once in a blue moon at the cafeteria.

If that’s the only thing he can hold on to, Shiro is going to cling to it like a lifeline and fervently pray that somehow, he’ll make it out of this damn nightmare and somehow survive to see his impossible happy ending.


	3. Chapter 3

The second that the majority of the _shit-that-hit-the-fan_ settled down, Shiro needed space. (Hilarious, considering that he’d literally just somehow made it from space, to Earth, and now back to space.)

He didn’t remember much.

He knew that-

One- he had somehow managed to escape from the Galra and find a way back to Earth. Said impact from the pod he’d been in crashing rattled him around, and he knew that he should probably get those new bumps and bruises checked out, but he couldn’t quite motivate himself to.

Two- Keith had rescued him from the Garrison doctors who had completely ignored his every word, likely more focused on attempting to deduce why he was still alive when he had apparently been gone for damn near _two years_ \- an estimation that he should probably have been dead by then.

Now, this opened up several other questions, like what the hell was Keith doing out in the middle of nowhere in the desert, and why, and where the hell was-

The name escaped him for a moment before blond hair, dark eyes and glasses reminded him.

Adam.

That was a can of worms he did not want to open and could not open- every time his thoughts drifted there, a sharp bolt of unidentifiable emotion rushed through him. Not while he was everyone else, at least.

Third-

He had gotten dragged into the middle of nowhere in the desert _again_ , found what was apparently a gigantic lion mech, and had gone back out into space, through a wormhole that a voice in the back of his mind told him should _not_ be possible, but given the shit he’d been through, not much seemed to be enough to faze him.

And fourth, and finally-

They’d found an ancient castle on a planet God-knows-where, found an alien princess who declared them paladins and then proceeded to assign them their own lion mechs.

So yes, given the circumstances, Shiro is very ready for a _goddamn nap_.

He slips away after the princess gives them what is apparently a rousing speech, feeling the thin grasp of reality he has in his fingers slipping away. His mind is still blurred- half from likely trauma, the other from whatever drug he had been pumped with from the Garrison doctors.

The halls are too narrow for him, too confined. No windows line the majority of them, and flickers of violet violently flash before his eyes as he stumbles deeper into the bowels of the ship. He needs air, needs to feel something real and solid and not the tight constricting fear and ache in his chest-

Eventually, somehow, he finds a massive observation deck. At least, that’s what appears to be the function of the place. The far wall and part of the ceiling are made of thick glass, open to the stars and the planet below. Each window is built with a seated nook, and there are no lights, so the floor is illuminated with the gentle glow of the dual moons hovering far above him.

He stumbles over to one, feeling like a fawn in the unfamiliar yet painfully familiar clothing that Keith had supplied him with, the scent of wood-smoke and pine only serving to confuse his already scattered senses, sits down with his knees drawn up to his chest, and cries.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith, the little shit, is of course the one to eventually find him.

“You’re an ass.” He leads with, a thick scowl prominent on his features.

Shiro lifts his face, and there must be evidence of his breakdown, because Keith’s features soften almost immediately as he sighs and approaches, looking far more adult than Shiro can remember.

“Hey.” He soothes, sitting down on the other side of the nook, bringing his legs up to straddle Shiro’s, one knee pressed against the glass comfortably. “You want to talk about it?”

Shiro shrugs miserably.

It’s more of an answer than anyone else would get if they were in the dark haired teen’s shoes, but Shiro just doesn’t know where to begin. Relief that he’s not alone any longer, fear of what happened to the Holts, pain that he can’t pinpoint but is probably related to everything that’s happened.

Keith knows Shiro, or at least the Shiro that had left on the Kerberos mission. The one with a dream in his heart and heartbreak on his face as they all realized it was unlikely that he would live long enough to return from space. Iverson had been furious, of course- the sheer amount of paperwork and contingency plans in case Shiro’s expiration date came to pass had been a pain in his ass from day one, and nothing he’d done had deterred the man from setting his sights on the Kerberos mission.

“Yeah. I know.” He leans back, looking out the window with the person who had essentially raised him.

One of them, anyway.

They stayed there for a while, Shiro visibly struggling to find the words he needed to speak.

Finally,

“All I could think of was getting back to you.”

Keith’s eyes immediately flicked to Shiro’s, startlement clear in his body.

“It’s hard to remember it now,” Shiro continued, a deep furrow between his brows, prosthetic hand trailing to his other, where there should have once been a gold band. “but I know that much. I just wanted to go home. To you and… _him_. Some days it was all that kept me from giving up, but that would have been exactly what they wanted to see.”

“It wasn’t easy without you, either.” Keith admitted, crossing his arms. “It was okay while you were still up there and knowing that you were still on my case about my grades. But then they said you were dead. That it was pilot error.”

Shiro is horrified to see the tears welling at the corner of Keith’s eyes, the thickness in his voice as he said the words. He wordlessly opened his arm- the flesh and blood one, moving his legs aside in instinct as Keith reached out for him.

“I knew it couldn’t have been that easy.” Keith continued, head now buried in Shiro’s chest. “They wouldn’t have sent anyone else. You’re the best pilot at the Garrison. I tried to find the truth, but Iverson covered it up. Said that it was because of your _illness_ that you’d crashed. So I… may have lost it and punched him in the face.”

Despite the situation, despite everything cold and grey and awful swirling around Shiro’s head, that single statement startled laughter from him. He could see it vividly, too- Keith pouncing, fire in his eyes as he took down the head of the Garrison.

“I can’t see him letting you stay after that.”

“He didn’t.” Keith was scowling again. Shiro could feel it through his shirt. “Kicked me out and threatened to make me disappear if I came back. So I went out to the shack.”

They were quiet again, Shiro’s thoughts condensing as he absorbed this newest information.

“And… Adam?”

Keith’s shoulders hunched.

Fear bloomed in Shiro’s chest, his breath hitching.

“Keith, what happened to Adam.”

“I… don’t know.” The younger man finally admitted. “I- we- he- after everything, we had a fight. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t see him after I got kicked out.”

They’d both raised Keith, pseudo parents despite the minimal age gap. It wasn’t uncommon for Keith to crash in their shared apartment, his books and uniform thrown haphazardly onto the table.

“He told me I was crazy and that we both needed to move on.” Keith said quietly. “No one other than Katie thought that you were still alive.”

That hurt to hear, but Shiro sighed.

“Keith, we made our choices and we had to live with them. I chose to leave, and he chose-“

_To move on._

_To give them up._

_To try and keep him on Earth._

_To try and keep their small piece of home and comfort until the end._

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Keith said, pulling back and swiping at his eyes. He always had hated crying- it made a mess of himself and whoever’s shirt that he happened to be crying on- and it was usually Shiro’s. “It doesn’t matter right now. You’re here.”

“Yeah.”

And he can’t help the small smile because he’s alive, and Keith is here, and everything looks okay for a brief moment in a long time.


End file.
